How I Met My Father (chapter 2)
by Bloodsong 13T
Summary: Please see "How I Met My Father" by DieAstra here on ffn (link under my Favorite Authors). Posted with permission. Contains Spoilers for Arrow Season 2. Thea asks some of the questions that were bothering her in "How I Met My Father," chapter 1.
1. Chapter 2

_I still can't believe I'm doing this._ But Thea was tired of being powerless in her own life. Of people lying to her, keeping her ignorant, 'protecting' her while putting her in even more danger. And there she was, stupid and blind to everything going on around her. She didn't like Malcolm Merlyn, but at least he hadn't tried to run her life for her. He swore he wouldn't lie to her. Not that she believed that for a second. She'd never believe anyone ever again.

"So where were you?" she asked, when the silence in the limousine grew too strained. "You couldn't have shown up sooner when that psycho had us tied up? Before everything went to hell?" Before her mother had been killed. God, how that hurt, no matter that Thea had been angry at her. There was always time to reconcile... or so she'd thought.

A shadow passed over Malcolm's features. He took a breath before answering. "I returned to Starling City to save your mother from that farce of a trial."

Thea frowned, and he nodded, encouraging her to follow through to her own conclusions. "You paid off the jurors." Of course. At the time, the verdict to free Moira had seemed like a miracle from Heaven. No, it was a dirty deal, arranged by this devil of a man.

"Afterwards, I asked her to tell you the truth about your parentage. I wanted to be able to connect with my only living child." His eyes darkened. "Moira took exception to that, so instead, she set the League of Assassins on me." He spread his hands in a shrug. "It wasn't safe for me to stay in Starling City, and I've been trying to stay a few steps ahead of them ever since."

Malcolm looked down, at his hands resting on his knee. "I didn't know your mother was in trouble. From the news feeds, things seemed to be going well, the whole mayoral campaign..." The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. "If anyone could come out of jail then turn around and be elected mayor, it was Moira." The smile faded, replaced by something else. Thea realized it was pain. He hadn't shown any before, not even when she'd shot him. Her mother's death had truly hurt him. "I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have saved her. I thought Oliver would protect her better than that!"

Of course, Oliver. Who had failed to mention the man they had let into their home, whom they'd given a whole damned tour to, their new family friend, was in fact, a lunatic bent on killing them all. Damn her brother! Hmph. Half-brother.

Thea looked out the window, watching the barren city flow by through the tinted glass. The darkness obscured the smoke and the grim morning clouds. She should feel something, some sense of loss, of mourning. But she felt the same as she did every day: empty.

"So tell me," she said, feeling numb enough to know this truth, "about this... thing... you and my mother had." Her dad hadn't noticed. Or was it he hadn't cared? Walter never noticed; Oliver didn't notice, even when it was happening all over again.

"We didn't have a 'thing,'" he said.

"Well, you had something, or else I wouldn't be here," Thea shot back accusingly. "How long did you have the hots for her? Did you not even care you were cheating with your best friend's wife?"

"Thea," he said abruptly, cutting her off. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh?" This ought to be good. "What was it like?"

Malcolm gave her a look of frustration. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I am sick of my life being built on a bunch of bullshit and lies! My mom had an affair; I get that! It was all tawdry sleeping around and just pretending to be the happy little family." She folded her arms. "I'm not a baby any more."

"All right." Again, he remained calm in the face of her vehemence. "Your mother and I didn't have an affair. It was your father."

She snorted. "That's crap."

"No, Thea, it's... Robert was a good man, a good provider for your family - a good father. But... he had a wandering eye. A weakness." Malcolm seemed to be trying to make excuses for him. "It didn't mean anything. He never meant to hurt your mother or to leave your family."

Thea felt her teeth grinding together. Could it be true? She wouldn't trust it. "None of this explains how you ended up screwing my mother."

Malcolm took another breath. "It wasn't like that. We... It was a few weeks after my wife was killed. I wasn't... handling it very well. Moira came over... She was looking for Robert; he'd lied to her again about where he was." At least he had the decency to look embarrassed, recounting this story. He rubbed a hand over his face. "We were both hurting, and lonely. We needed... Just the comfort of a human touch." He swallowed. "I swear to you, it never happened again. Moira felt badly about it... and I felt so guilty afterwards, I left the country..." He shook his head.

Thea studied him intently. He wouldn't meet her eyes. How could you tell a lie, when the entire truth of your life was built from them? "So that was it?"

"Yes."

"No torrid affair, no clandestine meetings?"

He shook his head.

"Just one, single, solitary time, and bam! How lucky can I be?" Oliver had told her that their - his - father knew she wasn't his daughter. Her mother denied there was an affair, saying that it was very brief. "So all this time, you've been lurking around, friends with my mom and dad. But nothing happened?"

"No, it didn't."

"Oh, you were all just friends. You weren't in love with my mother the whole time?"

He turned away, looked out the window, his eyes not registering the landscape beyond. Thea began to think he wasn't going to answer. Then he said softly, "I loved your mother very much." His voice was stripped of all its strength, a vulnerable ghost of itself. His eyes filled with pain, and for a moment it seemed... No. He took another breath, and became impassive stone once more. "But clearly, she did not feel the same way about me."

==_X_==


	2. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(because it's not like my brain is supposed to be working on OTHER STUFF or anything. and, all right, because i wanted to see them hug.)

===#===

_Close your eyes, baby._

But I can't. I can't close my eyes, or when I open them, she'll be dead. So I stare, my eyes wide, not daring to blink, not daring to look away. I try to hold her with my gaze, to protect her, to keep her from being torn away, like I know - I _know_ - she will be. I have to believe if I don't close my eyes, I won't lose her.

Tears are running down my face, but I won't blink. Oliver is shouting, _No! No!_ like a hammer striking, as if he can beat reality into the shape he wants. But he's as helpless as I am. And Mom... God, Mom is standing there, facing this madman, _telling_ him to kill her. Not us. So calm, so strong.

Then I don't know what happens. Although I'm staring at her, although I can't look away, I don't see what happens. All I know is that she's lying there, staring at the sky, just so horribly limp. My hands are free and I reach for her, but I can't touch her, I can't drag her back to me.

She's gone. Her body is there, but she's gone. Just like that, and there's no chance of her coming back like Ollie did.

This is forever.

===#===

"_Mom!_" I scream, flinging myself upright in bed, reaching out, trying to grab what isn't there, to hold onto what is gone. "Mom!" But she can't hear me. She won't come back. My whole body just aches with emptiness. My face is soaked, my nose is clogged, and I'm just crying _Mommy!_ over and over like some little baby. And I don't care, because all that matters is the pain. I'm so alone. Abandoned. A child without her mother, and I feel so stupid! All that time I spent trying to hate her, trying to hurt her, for the things she never did, things she never said, acting out like some spoiled brat, when I should have tried to make things right between us. When I should have been a more loving daughter.

And that hurts, too, all the more.

Then someone is in my room. It's too dark to see details with just the light from the clock, but he settles on the edge of my bed, a solid weight, and reaches for me. I recoil, because I remember I'm supposed to hate him. He's not the father I grew up with, Robert; he's not Walter, who listened to a lonely teen the way my mother stopped doing when she lost her first husband. But he's _here_, and he's warm and he's real, and I cling to him like that little lost child, still bawling my heart out.

He puts his strong arms around me and holds me, and I get his shirt all sopping wet as I cry helplessly against his chest. And I don't care; I still don't care. All I want is for someone to hold me and tell me everything will be all right.

But he doesn't. All he says is, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you."

Part of me hates him for that. Like I hate Ollie, who was there, who did nothing to stop it. Like I hate myself. I should hate Mr. Wilson, but that kind of hate is so huge, so black, it will crush me. So I hate Mom, instead. I hate her for dying and leaving me alone with nothing but lies where my family should be. I hate her and want to hurt her all over again.

That pain burns the worst of all.

===#===

Malcolm held Thea against his chest as she cried. She seemed so young, so lost. He stroked her hair, rocked her gently, trying to soothe her. Though he knew there was no cure for this pain she was feeling. He'd felt just as helpless when Tommy lost his mother. Just as guilty.

"I'm sorry, Thea," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

Moira had chased him off. That strong, proud woman. He should have known better than to try to force her hand - after all, he'd been the one to teach her how to be strong and how to deal with enemies. But he'd still been angry, angry and confused, by her betrayal.

Now he'd lost everyone he'd held dear. He'd lost Rebecca, ignored her cries for help as she lay dying. He'd pushed Tommy away, kept secrets from him. Every time he tried to rebuild the bridge of their relationship, he only ended up creating more rifts. Then Tommy had been killed, yet another victim in Malcolm's grand plan. He'd wanted so badly to have time to reconcile with Moira, but that had been taken from him, as well.

Thea was all he had left, the last shred of his family. Although she'd been estranged from him all her life, raised by another man, he loved her without reservation. He could not make the same mistake; he could not lose her, too. "I promise," he swore, "I will always be here for you. No matter what." _I promise you, Moira. I will keep our daughter safe._

This was his last chance.

===#===

I don't know how long I cried, but eventually, I was wrung out. The pain dulled inside me and left me feeling hollow. I felt safe in... my father's arms. He'd promised to protect me, and right now, I wanted to believe that so badly, that I did.

Then I noticed something. Pressed against his chest, I could feel the hitch in his breathing, even though he made no sound. I looked up. His eyes glistened with blue light from the clock, though the rest of him melted into shadow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice husky in his throat. He lowered his eyes so I couldn't see the light on them any more. "I wish I could have saved your mother. I would have given anything." His words choked off.

I've known Tommy's dad for, like forever. He maybe laughed, sometimes. He got angry a lot. But he never, ever, cried. I just stared, my fuddled brain trying to make sense of it. "You really loved her," I blurted, and it all clicked.

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. The truth was becoming clear to me, but still, it made no sense. "Why didn't you... do something? I don't know, fight for her?" After dad - Robert - died, he could have married Mom. How did she end up with Walter? If Malcolm had loved her so much...

"I..." He hesitated, and I got ready to remind him that he had promised to tell me the truth. Then I realized he wasn't stopping to make something up. He was hesitant because he probably never talked about this. Maybe he was embarassed. "I didn't feel worthy," he said at last. "Robert was my best friend. I just... It seemed inappropriate." He trailed off and looked away.

"I'm sorry," I said. I surprised myself, but I had to admit, if things had been different... Maybe none of this would have ever happened.

===_X_===


End file.
